SEVEN AND A HALF MONTHS LATER...

"Let's just do this, okay?" Charlotte sighs as she wraps her arms around me and moves her body closer to mine. Nodding stoically, I take a deep breath and lean into my BFF, kissing her as deeply as I've ever kissed my boyfriend.

"Sixty seconds start now!" Paul laughs from behind me as I close my eyes and turn my head in toward Charlotte and away from the videophone that is inevitably recording my embarrassment. I should also point out that the only thing I- and, for that matter, Charlotte- is wearing is an impractically tight, long-sleeved shiny purple gymnastics leotard that's ridden up into a highly uncomfortable wedgie.

Why are we wearing such odd clothing? Well, it's August 2012, we live in London, and there's something going on here at the moment that's kind-of a big deal! To be more specific, it's the 7th of August, and tonight is the final of the artistic gymnastics competition. Keith, Paul, Charlotte and myself are celebrating... with a twister tournament. That myself and Charlotte just lost. Embarrassingly quickly.

"Thirty seconds," Paul says with a chuckle as my lips remained glued to Charlotte's, our lipstick mingling together and our cheeks burning with embarrassment. Virtually every night throughout the course of the games, we've either hosted or attended a party themed around one particular event- on Saturday, it was tennis, the day before we had a pool party (to represent swimming), we even had a Judo-themed party last week. Though our substitution of 'pillow fighting' for Judo wasn't particularly 'Olympic'.

This has been pretty much par for the course over the last few months. Ever since Charlotte's documentary was broadcast in February we've been hosting and attending parties like they were going out of fashion. Sometimes the parties are just for us & our boyfriends, like tonight, sometimes we play host to over 60 people.

Charlotte doesn't even need an excuse any more, though obviously she loves to throw a party around a theme (like our Olympic parties over the last few days). Following the success of our 'Pan Am' party (nicely contrasting the abject failure of the show itself) Charlotte, Kristie, Mary & myself have been doing the 'matching costumes' thing a lot. For Charlotte's 21st birthday in May we all dressed up as Las Vegas-inspired showgirls and performed a little routine for the amassed guests, which was fun, even if the costume (a very stretchy satin bodysuit, fishnet tights, bicep-length satin gloves and HUGE feathers) was by far the most ridiculous I'd ever worn! Paul was particularly pleased when Charlotte made a fuss out of him for his 23rd in March, and was especially pleased with the sexy waitress costume (shiny satin blouse, super-tight satin 'hobble' skirt) I and all the 'girlfriends' wore. Especially as I wore my sexiest lace lingerie underneath! In fact we always wear special 'service' costumes for the boys' birthdays- for Keith's 21st in February we wore Hooters uniforms (no, I wasn't allowed to wear a skirt instead of the shorts) and for Mary's boyfriend's birthday in May we broke out the Playboy Bunny costumes again. Charlotte's promised me something extra-special for my 21st next month- I can't wait!

Whilst it seems that I spend most of my time partying with Charlotte, I do find some time to be alone with Paul. Charlotte's travels for Spencer & Hall and Keith's studies up north (though next year will be his last) mean I have the house to myself quite a lot, which makes it a lot easier to spend the night with my sexy boyfriend! Over the last seven months we've grown a lot closer- not quite 'Charlotte & Keith' close, but in addition to the sex- which we've had ridiculous amounts of- we've also done proper 'couple' things, including a weekend in Barcelona this April just gone- looking around the city, watching a football game (Paul's idea, though it was an incredible atmosphere) and spending virtually every other second in each other's pants!

I've had other holidays throughout the year too- Australia in January was AMAZING. Spending a whole week in the middle of winter wearing nothing but bikinis, one-piece swimsuits, sarongs and floaty sundresses was every part the break from reality I needed after the crazy Christmas I'd had. And the tan got me a lot of modelling work from swimwear and underwear/lingerie catalogues in February!

Joshua's been keeping me very busy in that area, as per usual. I averaged almost four shoots per week over the course of spring- mostly fashion, but a lot of make-up and underwear as well. I've been doing fewer 'costume'-style shoots than when I first started, possibly as I'm gaining 'seniority' amongst the ranks of Joshua's models, I don't know. That didn't prevent Joshua from sending me along to another shoot for a PVC fetish clothing company, despite my protests. There I had my first run-in with things called 'Ballet Boots', boots designed to force your feet into an en pointe position (Beyonce wore a pair in a music video she did once, I think). They were every bit as uncomfortable and painful as you'd imagine, and I swore I'd never wear another pair as long as I lived, so naturally the following day I bought a pair for myself off of the internet and have had Paul take them off on several occasions!

"Fifteen seconds," my boyfriend chuckles as my embarrassment hits fever pitch and I feel my saliva begin to mix together with Charlotte's. "Hey Keith, we should have gone for two minutes, that was far too easy!" Paul only laughs louder as I flip the deep-purple coloured tip of my middle finger up at him.

It may seem like my life has been a case of work, sex and partying over the last few months but I have found time for myself as well. Ever since reconciling with my family I've visited them every weekend, and dad started giving me additional driving lessons as a way of bonding with me. It worked- I passed my test in June and am now the proud owner of a baby blue Renault Clio! I still practise ballet with Charlotte, though only once a week now, with both of us being extremely busy with our respective careers. I've improved a lot, though- I'm now as at ease walking and dancing en pointe as I am in heels or in bare feet. Our recital in April went perfectly, even though our bit was just eight minutes long and the audience was composed solely of the families of Ellen's students, we still received a standing ovation, and I had a photograph taken of me in my tutu with my parents that currently takes pride of place on my bedside table.

Looking back even on that photo it's amazing how much I've changed physically, too. I've been taking hormones for 18 months and those in the know have told me it'd be impossible to believe I was ever anything other than 100% female. My hips have widened slightly further and my waist has narrowed slightly too (though I did start wearing corsets again briefly earlier this year, which may have contributed). My skin is softer and smoother than most genetic females, and my face has taken on even more subtle feminine characteristics. Following my boob job in December I've had two more minor procedures done on them to keep them both the same size. I'm told I shouldn't need to have any more procedures done, though- and I won't need to buy a whole new collection of bras either! I'm thankful I've not had to have any further operations- not for another year and a half, anyway, which is when I have 'the' operation. Sometimes I actually find myself in two minds about that- my male genitals have shrunk so much some days I don't even bother wearing a vagina panty any more, a thong and a pair of tights is usually more than enough 'camouflage'. Obviously I'm wearing one now, underneath my leotard, but I honestly do believe I could get away without it. On the other hand, I do want to make love as a woman. I NEED to make love as a woman. Sure, anal sex provides orgasms by the bucketload, but deep down I know it's not the same.

The big news, though, is that I've been accepted onto an Open University Course this September, studying Business Administration! I've kept this a secret from Charlotte and the gang as I want to surprise them with this ahead of my 21st next month. My parents already know, and in typical fashion have already cleared a spot on their wall for my graduation photo!

"...And that's time!" Paul yells as Charlotte and I eagerly pull away from each other and dive into the welcoming arms of our respective boyfriends (who, in wearing plain T-shirts and shorts, haven't really got into the spirit of things). Still embarrassed from my forfeit, I give Paul a light, playful punch in the kidneys.

"That's for enjoying it too much," I say as Paul holds me tighter by way of apology.

"If you'd won, was there any way you'd have let me and Keith off the hook?" Paul asks, leadingly. For the record, their forfeit would have been to wear our leotards for the rest of the night.

"No," I sigh.

"...And would you have laughed your head off constantly?" Paul asks.

"...Yes," I confess as we crash down onto our sofa and snuggle up together. It doesn't take long for one of Paul's hands to find its way to my nearly-bare buttocks, and stay there for the rest of the night. We don't stay up much beyond 11pm- watching highlights from the gymnastics, some of which Charlotte and I try (and fail!) to recreate.

Before too long, the four of us found ourselves in bed- not together, obviously, Charlotte & Keith in their bed and me and Paul in mine- and with all the eagerness that had been beaming out of his eyes all evening, Paul quickly freed my body from the leotard that had been clinging to it as I freed his squirming penis from his shorts and expertly massaged it to full length. It didn't take long for Paul to find his way into my backside and finish the night by riding us both to the point of orgasm and beyond...

Paul and I both wake up just before 8AM and take turns in the shower. We would shower together, but I can't shower with the vagina panty in place and whilst he hasn't said anything explicitly, it's clear that Paul would prefer to pretend that the 'growth between my legs' didn't exist. As would I, for that matter. After eating breakfast (Charlotte and Keith are still in bed) we get dressed for the day ahead. Both of us have work today, but not quite the work you might expect.

Feeling in a particularly feminine mood following my 'encounter' with Charlotte last night, I decide to go for a 'pink' theme today. I start by putting on a thick layer of pink eyeshadow, followed by thick mascara and eyeliner, and finish up with a dark pink lipstick. I redo my nails the same colour as my lips, and spray on my sweetest-smelling perfume before I pick out my clothing for the day. Ensuring Paul's back is turned (I'm not wearing a vagina panty today, it's too hot) I slip into a tight, white halterneck thong bodysuit that shows off my body (and my cleavage!) beautifully but still breathes enough to ensure I won't be sat in a puddle of sweat all day. I tie my hair up into a high ponytail- which Paul normally sees as an invitation to come over and start kissing my neck, sadly for him the halterneck prevents that today!- and roll a pair of nude hold-up stockings up my legs (I'd prefer to be bare-legged, but sadly that isn't an option).

I stride over to my wardrobe, giggling as Paul gently holds me from behind and gets himself a handful of my left buttock, his pinkie finger gently stroking the thin strap of the thong nestled between my buttocks. I slowly extricate myself from Paul's arms and pick a cute pastel pink skirt suit out of my wardrobe and ease myself into it. The skirt is, obviously, a pencil skirt, but it's a short one, coming to about 4 inches above my knee. Enough to show plenty of leg, not enough to show plenty of stocking top! The jacket is fitted and accentuates my body beautifully when paired with the bodysuit. Once I've slipped my feet into a matching pair of 5" stilettos, put on a bracelet, two pairs of earrings and my designer sunglasses, all I need is a matching handbag and I'm ready to take on the world!

Paul, for his part, is wearing a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a pair of trainers.

"I still don't get why you have to be so over-dressed," Paul muses as we walk hand-in-hand to his car.

"This is Joshua we're talking about," I reply, referring (obviously) to my modelling agent, and technically my employer. "He never wears anything other than designer clothes, so you do need to keep up appearances around him." Paul simply looks as me with an unconvinced expression.

"Seriously," I continue as Paul takes us out of out driveway and onto the tourist-filled streets of London, "I went round to his house once for a meeting. 9:30pm on a Tuesday evening, he was still wearing his business suit."

"And still bouncing off the walls with energy, I take it?" Paul asks rhetorically.

"You know Joshua," I retort as we head further into the city. Unsurprisingly, when we arrive at the office, Joshua is already there and hard at work.

"Jamie!" Joshua greets me with a big hug as I enter the office and prepare to take my seat behind the reception desk. For my OU course it was recommended I get some work experience in an administration role, and Joshua was more than happy to let me do work experience for him- for free, obviously! So Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays I'm either sat at reception answering Joshua's phones for him or sorting out his extensive filing.

"Paul Gould!" Joshua beams as he sees my boyfriend enter the office after me. "When are you going to come and work for me?" Paul chuckles at Joshua impromptu job offer, much like he has every time the two of them meet.

"I've told you a million times," Paul says with a smirk, "fashion photography isn't my thing!"

"Make it your thing and we can make loads of money together!" Joshua insists. I simply chuckle as I place my handbag under my desk and switch on my computer.

"I'll think about it," Paul says, before leaning over my desk and giving me a lingering goodbye kiss. "See you later, gorgeous!"

"See you tomorrow," I grin as Paul heads back out to his car. He's up at a photoshoot in Milton Keynes all day so there's no chance of meeting up with him for lunch- not that Joshua gives me much time for lunch anyway!

Paul wasn't kidding when he said his photography style wasn't exactly compatible with Joshua's line of business- as I found out repeatedly over the last few months. Rather than being a fashion photographer or paparazzo, Paul's more of an 'artistic' photographer, specialising in fantasy settings, unrealistic stuff. Some of the more bizarre things I've found myself doing for him- obviously as his girlfriend, I'm expected to model for him- include being covered from head to toe in silver paint (with just the flimsiest of bikinis to preserve my modesty), dressed as a geisha- Paul's cousin is an amazing make-up artist, able to make me look convincingly Japanese even after having my whole face covered in white paint, dressed as a Victorian dominatrix (think full Victorian-style dress- including a ridiculously tight corset- only made out of leather and PVC), dressed as a 1950s housewife (including authentic fifties underwear) who was, of course, abducted by aliens, and dressed as a serious businesswoman, but wearing black pointe shoes and conducting all my work whilst performing ballet moves (not easy in a pencil skirt, believe me).

By far the weirdest shoot, however, was one where I was gradually transformed into a mermaid. Not overly strange in itself, you might think, but Paul had invested in extensive prosthetics that saw me gradually transformed past mermaid and into a completely non-human fish-like lifeform- and then immersed in water for a few video clips. I will admit that the effect was remarkable- the changes between pictures are so subtle that you can see the transformation taking place, but by the end you can barely recognise that the creature is even human, let alone that it's me under the make-up. I just wish Paul's cousin's make-up hadn't been waterproof and therefore taken an age to remove!

Paul also does video shoots from time to time, though he usually saves that for 'personal shoots' involving just the two of us- by which I of course mean sex tapes. Paul's said his favourite one is the one where I spend five minutes struggling into a skin-tight latex catsuit after smearing my entire body with lubricant, which I follow up by wrapping a torturously tight corset around my waist and tying on my aforementioned pair of ballet boots. I then spend a few minutes tottering around before sinking to my knees and giving Paul the longest blowjob I could before I started having difficulty breathing (both from the corset and the 'blockage')! Hell, even I find that one highly erotic.

The day passes quickly, fortunately. The work isn't hard- mostly just booking appointments and filing- but the difficult thing is dealing with the attitudes of the other models. Every one- male or female- who comes in for a meeting with Joshua takes a look at me sitting behind the reception desk and immediately adopts a smug, superior front, the assumption being that I'm unable to get any modelling jobs and need Joshua to give me additional work to get money to live. Never mind the fact that I'm wearing very expensive designer clothes, make-up and jewellery, never mind the fact that, as one of Joshua's longest-serving models, I get first dibs on most jobs, never mind the fact that it's known I live with Charlotte, a bona fide celebrity and millionaire, I'm just seen as 'poor Jamie who needs the money'. I don't mind- if there's one thing my three years in the unemployment queue taught me, it's that if you're patient, you WILL have the last laugh.

The office shuts, as always, at 5:30pm and I catch a taxi back home where Charlotte and Keith are already waiting in the lounge. I head upstairs and strip off my suit in private- obviously they can't know I'm doing work experience until I tell them about my course- and change into a comfortable cotton bra and thong set before pulling on a pink t-shirt, a denim miniskirt and (of course) a pair of Ugg Boots.

"One of these days," Charlotte says suspiciously as I park myself down on my sofa, "you are going to have to tell me where you disappear to all day. If I didn't know any better I'd almost be tempted to think you found yourself employment..."

"No party tonight?" I ask, huddling my silky smooth legs under my body as I check facebook on my phone.

"Nothing really on tonight at the games," Charlotte explains, "and I figure we'd better get the leotards washed before Saturday's party. Beach volleyball tomorrow, though!"

"Did you say that was a daytime one?" I ask, still mostly engrossed in the latest messages Paul's posted on my facebook wall.

"Yeah," Charlotte explains. "Also known as 'Keith mans the barbecue all day and keeps us all fed'." Charlotte and I chuckle as Keith playfully rolls his eyes and squeezes Charlotte a little tighter.

"...And if it's volleyball I'd better book in for a nail appointment at the salon," I sigh.

"Already taken care of," Charlotte says smugly. "12pm on Friday good for you?" Ooh, you sneaky cow, I think to myself- Charlotte's obviously been paying attention and knows that Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays are the days I work for Joshua.

"Um," I stall, desperately trying to think of a retort, "didn't you say it was a wrestling party on Friday? Seems pointless to have our nails professionally done only to have them wrecked again 12 hours later."

"But the point is," Charlotte argues, "they will get wrecked tomorrow."

"Yes," I reply, "but surely we can patch them up on Friday and get them redone professionally on Saturday?"

"Okay, if you insist," Charlotte says indignantly, "I guess I'll just have to treat someone else to a salon visit on Friday."

"I guess you will," I say despite myself, inwardly grimacing the second the words leave my mouth.

"Enough," Keith says, assuming the by now all-too-familiar role of peacekeeper. Charlotte and I don't fall out often, but when we do- usually over something trivial like when to have our nails done- and Keith's not around, we can go four hours, sometimes even days without talking to each other. Sometimes I'm amazed by just how stubborn Charlotte can be. "Charlie, can I have a word?" Inwardly, I smugly smile- Keith's scared enough of Charlotte that when I'm in the right- which I usually am- he won't side with me openly, but will take Charlotte aside and explain to her privately why I'm right. Sure enough, ten minutes later Charlotte and Keith return and she curls back up on her sofa with a frown on her face.

"I'll call the salon and get us booked in on Saturday," Charlotte mumbles. Needless to say, the rest of the evening passes in near-silence before we all head off to bed at around 10:30pm.

I'm awoken at 8:15 the following morning by my phone, but for once, it's not the alarm that rouses me- I can immediately tell by the ringtone that it's my boyfriend on the other end of the line. I smile and brush the sleepiness out of my eyes before answering my phone.

"Do you know what time it is?" I complain with mock-tiredness. "It takes a lot to get a model out of her bed this early..."

"How about that model's sexy photographer boyfriend in just a pair of swimming shorts?" Paul responds with a smirk. Curious, I pull on a light dressing gown and pad into the guest bedroom for a better view of our outdoor pool. Sure enough, Paul's stretched out on one of the sun loungers with only a pair of sunglasses and a pair of multi-coloured shorts to preserve his dignity. I can't help but giggle as he waves at me.

"Charlotte demanded I help her set up for the party this afternoon," Paul explains. "She didn't say how much I had to help, so..."

"I'll be right down," I say, still giggling. I head back into my room and change into a fresh vagina panty before pulling on a plain, tight black one-piece swimsuit. If I wear a bikini- which would have been my first choice- the chlorine in the water would get to the vagina panty more easily and wreck it, and I can't not wear one if I'm meeting with Paul.

Knowing I'm going to end up in the pool, I decide not to bother with any make-up, and I tie my hair back into a tight plait before heading out into our back garden, where Paul is off his sun lounger and ready to greet me with a long, deep kiss.

"Missed you yesterday," Paul says softly.

"I missed you too," I confess quietly as Paul holds me close to him.

"Well, you've got me for four whole days now!" Paul enthuses as I giggle and cuddle him. "Glad you're in your swimsuit!" Paul chuckles as he scoops me up into his arms and jumps the both of us into the pool. I yelp a little as I briefly dip underwater before chuckling along with Paul.

We spend the next half hour swimming and making out in the pool- Paul even lowering the top half of my swimsuit at one point to play with my breasts- before Charlotte loudly coughs, announcing her arrival.

"You know, Paul," she says indignantly, "when I asked you to come round I'm sure I added 'to help set up the barbecue', not 'to mess around in the pool with your girlfriend all day'."

"Oh come on," I jokingly plead, "we haven't seen each other in almost 24 hours!" Charlotte just giggles as Paul and I pout at her, before dropping two large beach towels at the side of the pool.

"Get dried, get showered, get dressed and get down here to help!" Charlotte insists as Paul and I haul ourselves out of the pool, drying ourselves on Charlotte's towels. We hold hands all the way back up to my bedroom where Paul strips out of his shorts and heads into the shower first, shortly followed by myself (still wearing my swimsuit), dropping to my knees in the shower and using my mouth to, ahem, 'ensure his penis is clean'. Once Paul is done (in more ways than one) he steps out of the shower, allowing me to strip off my swimsuit and vagina panty and get cleaned myself. Once I've dried myself off and blow-dried my hair, I head back into my bedroom, pick out a fresh vagina panty and, whilst fighting off Paul's attempts to fondle my bare breasts, change into the volleyball bikini Charlotte had made for our 'team'. After fixing my make-up- just a small amount today, given the physical activity we'll be doing later- I tie my hair back into the same plait it was in earlier, throw a short baby blue sundress over myself and pull on my favourite pair of girly pink trainers. Linking hands again with Paul- who's decked out in just a t-shirt, shorts and a pair of sandals- we head downstairs to the patio where Keith and Charlotte are already waiting for us, Keith in his shorts & t-shirt and Charlotte wearing just her bikini & sparkly trainers.

The party goes well, as have all of our Olympic parties- about 24 people drop by in the end, meaning Keith and Paul spend most of the morning and afternoon ensuring everyone's kept topped up with a constant supply of food. Paul, of course, had to make a comment that the hot dog he gave me wasn't my first 'sausage' of the day, and even though we've been going out for almost eight months, he still earned a foul look from Keith. He- by which I mean Keith- is so over-protective of me. He even texted me whilst me and Paul were in Barcelona, claiming it was Charlotte who put him up to it when I know for a fact he was at university at the time.

The party tapers off just after 5pm. We'd long since run out of meat for the barbecue and our plans for a volleyball tournament fell a little flat after about two games- it was too hot for playing volleyball anyway and our 'beach' was really just our back garden so we simply retired to the nearest sun lounger instead. It should also go without saying that Charlotte and I lost our first match fairly conclusively, hence why the enthusiasm for the tournament went straight out the window.

"If we're going to have a wrestling party tomorrow," I complain, reclining on one of our sun loungers, "can we at least have the air conditioning on?"

"We will, I promise," Charlotte concedes, letting her arms flop down the sides of her lounger. "At least there's only three more days..."

"Are you doing any parties for the paralympics?" Paul jokes. Charlotte and I just look at each other and muster up just enough energy to tip Paul back out of his sun lounger and into the pool!

We stay outside until way past 9pm, the four of us just listening to music and drinking blissfully cold, blissfully alcoholic beverages. You're probably wondering why neither Krystie nor Mary hung around after the party ended- well... That's a complicated story.

Remember at Christmas, when Charlotte gave me the use of Spencer & Hall's facilities to make my 2013 calendar? Remember also a couple of days earlier when I agreed to team up with Krystie? Turns out those two things were kinda a little bit... incompatible.

In what was probably the worst dilemma I've faced since becoming Jamie-Lee I had to decide between hurting my BFF's feelings or hurting the closest friend I had who didn't know my secret (Keith excepted, of course). The fact that I'm sitting in the Sun what Charlotte and not Krystie should tell you what I chose. Ever since, Krystie and I have been... well, distant isn't really the word. In fact, Krystie's been outright hostile to me on several occasions. Mary helped to play peacemaker- hence why the two of them still attend our parties- but Krystie's made no secret how she feels about myself and Charlotte. Charlotte, of course, tolerates it because she sees it as Krystie needing her more than she needs them- and let's face it, she's probably right.

To make matters worse? A couple of months ago Joshua signed Krystie to her books. It turns out that she'd been taking nude modelling jobs for various websites and her old agent didn't really approve of it. I put in a good word for her with Joshua, which I hoped would help to mend bridges- but then, of course, I started doing intern work. Of all the models who have made fun of me for working behind the desk at Joshua's office, none have been more vicious and catty than Krystie. I'm guessing the only reason she hasn't told Charlotte is either because she assumes Charlotte already knows, or she can't stand the thought of gossiping with her the way we used to gossip together.

Fortunately, I always have my BFF to fall back on, and my sexy boyfriend to rely on whenever I get too down. It should really go without saying that after turning into bed just after 10pm Paul and I find ourselves in bed, my face buried deep into his crotch, motivating him to ride me to orgasm after orgasm...

Friday is a work day for me so I wake up at 7:45, quickly run through my morning routine, put my make-up on, repaint my finger and toenails a dark pink and get dressed for the day. Joshua has a 'business casual' dress policy for Fridays. For Joshua that just means taking his jacket off whilst at work, but I use the policy to flex my fashion muscles a little. Foregoing a bra & thong (though I don a vagina panty as usual as I'll be meeting Paul later), I pull a very clingy, long-sleeved dark blue leotard up my body. It has a panel in the front to support my breasts and show a healthy amount of cleavage. Counting yesterday's swimsuit, it's actually the sixth day in a row I've worn a leotard-style garment (and I've not even had any ballet lessons, as Ellen's away teaching at her ballet summer camp), but this is an outfit I'd planned weeks in advance, and this leotard is so sexy I can't not wear it! As the leotard is full-bottomed instead of a thong, I pull on an ankle-length, very slender (but still nice and loose) grey skirt, held up by a thin black belt. A pair of strappy 5" cork wedges go on my feet (I don't bother with any hosiery- it's far too hot), two dangly pairs of earrings go in my lobes, one of my favourite perfumes and some of my favourite bracelets and necklaces complete my look for the day. I tie my hair into a tight (but playful-looking) updo, which of course prompts Paul to rush over and pepper my neck with kisses! Grabbing my handbag, I head downstairs, making sure not to wake Charlotte or Keith!

As always, Paul drives me to work, fends off Joshua's relentless job offers and gives me a long, lingering kiss (dipping me backwards a bit!) before heading off for the day. I settle down behind my desk and rpepare to start the day when I notice the name in the 10:30 slot of Joshua's diary- Krystie Fullerton.

The next hour and a half pass apprehensively as I concentrate on my work, arranging appointments for models and calling around companies trying to find work for said models, when sure enough, at 10:28am, a familiar brown-haired figure walks through the door, wearing an inexpensive grey skirt suit.

"I'll let Joshua know you're here," I say stoically to Krystie as she takes a seat across the room from my desk and begins flicking through the magazines, not even looking in my direction. I quietly roll my eyes as the next two minutes drag by before Joshua appears at the door to his office and beckons Krystie inside.

"Jamie- you too," he says in my direction, confusing me slightly. But, he is still my boss, so I dutifully rise from my chair and follow Joshua and Krystie into the office. I sit down next to Krystie opposite Joshua's desk, ensuring my skirt remains straight as I cross my left leg over my right.

"Don't think I haven't noticed what's been going on these last few months," Joshua admonishes before he's even fully sat down in his chair. "I've known models far too long to know that something's up. I've also known the two of you long enough to know WHAT's up."

"I'm not the one who went back on my word," Krystie retorts spitefully.

"And what am I supposed to have done?" I snap back, not disguising the bitterness in my voice. "Tell my best friend where to shove her Christmas present?"

"Didn't we agree to make our calendar together BEFORE Christmas?" Krystie asks incredulously.

"Ladies!" Joshua sharply interjects. "You've had this argument a hundred times! Each time it ends with you growing further and further apart. It can't go on."

"Especially not if Miss Burke goes full time as your secretary," Krystie mockingly agrees, fully earning herself a death glare from me.

"There's a reason Jamie's been working for me," Joshua says with a smirk on his face. "A reason she hasn't even told Charlotte yet. Jamie, go ahead." I'm apprehensive- armed with this knowledge, Krystie could easily go behind my back and tell Charlotte my secret. Then again, it could show her that she can fully trust me again. Knowing I have no choice with both Krystie and Joshua staring intently at me, I take a deep breath.

"I'm going to be studying business administration at the Open University," I confess, "starting next month. Joshua's letting me work here to get some work experience."

"Jamie," Krystie says with a confused look on her face, "That is so cool! I've always wanted to be a student, go to student parties, you know?"

"Well," I say with a smile creeping onto my face, "I won't be that kind of student, I'll be doing all my studying from home, attending lectures online..."

"Watching those creepy bearded guys on BBC2?" Joshua interjects with a laugh.

"Do they still have those?" Krystie asks with genuine curiosity. "I thought they got rid of them ages ago?"

"Yeah, it's all online now," I confirm with a smile.

"I can't believe you haven't told Charlotte yet!" Krystie says, a wide, familiar grin now firmly attached to her face.

"Well, you know what she'd say," I reply, slipping fully back into 'gossip' mode. "She'd be all like 'isn't modelling good enough for you' and so on. I really don't think she ever thinks more than a couple of weeks ahead."

"Tell me about it," Krystie says, and we both giggle together for the first time in ages, before Joshua makes his presence known with a cough. I immediately realise my faux pas.

"Oh god, I'm sorry," I say, still giggling, "I'm sure you didn't ask Krystie here just to gossip with me!"

"Well, now that you mention it," Joshua says with a wide grin... Krystie and I simply giggle further at Joshua's set-up. For all his bombast, he really is one of the cleverest people I know.

"So," I say to my renewed friend with a grin on my pink lips, "lunch, usual time and place?"

"Forget that!" Joshua laughs, "Take the rest of the day off, I can answer my own phones for once!"

"A-Are you sure?" I ask hesitantly.

"Go!" Joshua commands, "Before I change my mind!"

"Thank you," Krystie and I say simultaneously. "Thank you so much!" As I log off my computer and grab my handbag Krystie is already gossiping like the two of us has never fallen out.

"I guess I couldn't really blame you," she says as she grabs her own bag and checks her dark grey-coloured nails. "I mean, if I'd been given the use of Spencer & Hall's facilities I'd snap them up without a second thought."

"I promise I'll tell you a bit ahead of time if anything like this happens again," I say, desperately trying to keep the situation sweet. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question- lunch, usual time and place?"

"Shopping first," Krystie says with a grin, "you HAVE to tell me where you got that skirt. And those wedges. And that leotard too, actually." I giggle as the two of us leave the office, close friends once again.

The two of us- along with Mary and Paul (who'd given us a lift after accompanying us on our shopping trip)- arrive back home just after 2:30pm to help Keith & Charlotte prepare for tonight's Olympic party. Sure enough, Krystie's carrying three shopping bags with my entire outfit (and a bit more) in them whilst I have just the two bags which contain two pairs of stilettos and a cute strapless summer dress. Charlotte and Krystie, of course, immediately get on like a house on fire as if there'd never been a falling out between the two of them. She's not overtly letting it on, but you can easily tell Krystie is just LOVING knowing something Charlotte doesn't.

Tonight's party is 'wrestling', so our costumes for tonight are skin-tight unitards.

...At least, that's what we girls are wearing. It turns out Paul & Keith share a love of WWF wrestling (don't ask me why, I can't even begin to explain it) so while me, Charlotte, Krystie & Mary are dressed properly, our boyfriends (it's just the eight of us tonight) have all come as long-haired meatheads in musclesuits. This is an especially silly look for Paul, who's (normally) 6 feet tall and just under 9 stone! Keith is pulling off the look well though, even if I don't get why he's wearing a comically huge fake nose.

As you may have gathered, it is just the eight of us tonight. As with before, there will be a competition- Keith had wanted us to watch the latest WWF pay-per-view but fortunately girl power (and common sense!) prevailed so us four girls are going to have an arm wrestling tournament instead- which let's face it, is going to be much more entertaining for the boys!

I surely don't need to explain by now what happens at the party. We chat, we drink, Charlotte and I lose the tournament embarrassingly quickly (Krystie eventually wins, much to her obvious delight) and our guests depart just after 10:30pm. Paul, of course, insists on carrying me upstairs to bed in a fireman's carry whilst still wearing his musclesuit, though he's quick to strip it off once my hand finds its way inside his trunks!

With the exception of a half hand- half blowjob that's all the sex we have for the night, as we've quickly established a tradition of waking up on Saturday morning and having so much sex that we almost fall straight back to sleep again! To give you an idea of what I mean, we're awake at 7:30am and only get out of bed at 9:30 because Charlotte's booked an appointment for us (me & Charlotte, not me & Paul, obviously) at the salon. After showering and changing my vagina panty I slip into a fresh bra & thong set and pull on a light, short-sleeved patterned dress. I initially pair this with a pair of light black tights, but I make the 'mistake' of straightening and adjusting my tights within arm's reach of Paul, so naturally the tights inevitably end up in a pile of my bedroom floor whilst Paul rides me to yet another orgasm! I eventually decide to go bare-legged and wear a pair of flat sandals with the dress, as well as my jewellery and a matching handbag, of course. As we're going to the salon I only apply a light layer of make-up.

Charlotte and I head out just after 10am (the boys are going to their families for the weekend- tonight's party excepted, of course) and the instant we sit down in the taxi Charlotte starts interrogating me about my reconciliation with Krystie.

"So..." Charlotte begins in her trademark inquisitive tone, "I noticed you and little Miss Fullerton getting on like a house on fire last night for the first time in, oh, ages?"

"We had a little spat, we got over it," I explain with a smug Charlotte-like grin on my face.

"'Little spats' don't last for seven months!" Charlotte exclaims, getting obviously agitated that there's something she's being kept in the dark about. "What exactly did you say or do to make it up to her?"

"That's between me and her," I say, my grin getting wider. Charlotte opens her mouth to respond but thinks better of it- every time she's tried to 'pull rank' with me in an argument I always end up calling her 'dad', agitating her further and causing her to pout and sulk, so by now she's learned to put up and shut up whenever I get the upper hand!

Charlotte and I stay at the salon until almost 2pm. We have our eyebrows reshaped to perfection and filled in, as well as thick black eyeliner and a light purple/silver eyeshadow (to match tonight's costumes). I opt for a light pink lipstick, whilst Charlotte picks out a hot pink colour. We both have long french manicures put on the end of our long, slender fingers and we eventually leave the salon feeling- no, being¬- the most beautiful girls in the world.

When we get home I'm immediately put to work by Charlotte as we get ready for tonight's party. It's the last one for now (Charlotte & Keith have tickets to the closing ceremony tomorrow) and the theme is 'Rhythmic Gymnastics', so we'll be back in our freshly-laundered leotards later tonight. Rather than a tournament, Charlotte and Mary (who was an amateur gymnast when she was younger and actually represented Northern Ireland in competitions more than once) have put together a routine that we'll be performing for our guests later on tonight. I'm thankful that months of ballet have made me a lot more flexible than I used to be- if I'd tried doing the splits 18 months ago the results would have been very painful!

At about 5:30 we head upstairs and change into our skin-tight purple leotards, and I tie my long blonde hair back into a high ponytail, held in place with a sparkly purple scrunchie. Obviously, I take off all my jewellery- I don't want to do a cartwheel and hang myself with my necklace- but I touch up my professionally-applied makeup a little to ensure it remains perfect throughout the night. I pull on a flared black miniskirt and a pair of nude-coloured flats to cover up before heading downstairs where Charlotte is waiting, dressed identically except for wearing a pair of red booty shorts instead of a skirt (and her hair isn't long enough to tie into a ponytail).

"Remember your moves for the routine?" Charlotte asks worriedly.

"Yes, yes, yes," I reassure her. "You only drilled it into me a hundred times over the last few weeks. I still don't get why I, of all people, am the one doing the splits at the end."

"You have the longest hair of all of us," Charlotte says by way of explanation. I simply roll my eyes and hang around with Charlotte, waiting for the guests to arrive. Inevitably, Paul and Keith arrive first and immediately make a beeline for their respective girlfriends, Paul in particular eager to get a feel of my soft skin encased in skintight lycra. Before too long our living room is full of people eating, drinking and dancing. Charlotte and I are particularly gratified that most people are dressing up to match the theme- most of the girls (and a couple of guys!) are wearing shiny, stretchy gymnastics leotards of all designs (though obviously none clash with our little 'troupe').

It isn't long before Paul's called away for bartender duties. When Charlotte learned that he was the head student barman during his university days she's been relying on him more and more for his cocktail mixing prowess. With Charlotte ordering him around (not that he seems to mind too much) and Krystie and Mary dancing with their respective boyfriends, I make my way over to where Keith is chatting to a few friends, hoping to elicit some attention from him. When I arrive, however, he's deep in the middle of a conversation that immediately makes my ears burn.

"...lucky, living with two of the sexiest girls in the country," Keith's friend Tom teases.

"I don't know what you mean," Keith says, genuinely confused by Tom's remark.

"Charlotte & Jamie," Tom clarifies. "Are you seriously telling me you haven't at least THOUGHT about a threesome with them both?"

"Jamie!?" Keith says incredulously, causing my heart to crack a little. "No, no way!"

"What?" Tom asks with disbelief. "How can you not find Jamie attractive? She looks almost identical to Charlotte, only a little less... supermodelly." I should be offended that the guys are talking about me the same way they would a page-three girl, but- and call me shallow- it's always flattering to hear someone pay me a compliment.

"Okay, she's not bad," Keith concedes, "but if Charlotte's a 10- which she is- Jamie's at most a- a- ...3." My jaw drops and my heart finally breaks at the callous dismissal of me by the man I've adored from afar for so, so long. Three!?!? How can he possibly say three!?

I take a moment to compose myself before marching back to our temporary bar. Three!? I'll show him who's a three...

"I need to borrow my boyfriend for a few minutes," I announce to Charlotte, not giving her the opportunity to complain as I march Paul out of the party area and up to my bedroom.

"Jamie, what's up?" Paul asks confusedly. "I'm kinda in demand down there..."

"Girlfriend privileges," I explain as I close the door to my room, fling off my skirt and immediately launch myself at him, pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss and dragging him over to the bed.

"Okay," Paul says, catching on to what I mean by 'girlfriend privileges'. "You are wearing your latex thing, right?"

"I'm wearing a skin-tight leotard in a room full of other people," I explain, trying not to be too condescending. "Yes, I'm wearing my 'latex thing'." Paul pauses as I finish my sentence, suddenly remembering something.

"Ah, speaking of latex things," Paul mumbles as my hand reaches his groin and begins to work its magic, "I kinda, sorta don't have any condoms with me." I simply stare at Paul with disappointment etched all over my face.

"Oh come on," he says defensively, "I wasn't spending the night and I didn't realise that, well, 'this' was going to happen." I tighten my grip on his penis- not to painful levels, but to 'I mean business' levels- and begin rhythmically massaging it.

"We don't need a condom," I say, stripping off my leotard with one hand whilst continuing to masturbate Paul with the other.

"...And you know I can't get the lube we use on my skin," Paul argues, reminding me of the time he tested the solution on his forearm and ended up scratching it so much he almost needed hospital treatment.

"We don't need lube either," I say confidently, pulling off my leotard completely and gently leading Paul into a sitting position on the side of my bed. Making sure the strap of my vagina panty won't be an obstruction, I slowly lower myself onto the glistening head of Paul's penis.

Previously when we'd made love, it had always been with the use of a condom and some lubricant. Sure, it had been erotic in the extreme, but it had always been kind of... methodical. 'Clean', even. But this, this feeling as Paul slipped deeper inside me, this was different. It was hot- both metaphorically and literally- passionate, steamy.

Paul's yells in my ear tell me he feels the exact same way, and before too long we simultaneously orgasm, which for me includes the additional feeling of Paul's sticky semen splashing inside of me. We both gasp as the orgasmic feeling subsides and Paul withdraws his flaccid- but still red-hot- penis from my backside with a slimy 'pop'.

"Uhhhh..." Paul sighs as he lays back on my bed. "We need to do that more often."

"Damn right we do," I giggle as I grab a tissue and wipe Paul's penis clean and stuff it back in his pants. "You'd better get back downstairs, don't want to make it TOO obvious what we were just doing."

"Sure thing," he says, caressing my sweaty, naked body and giving me a lingering kiss before heading back down to the party. I stand there for a second after Paul leaves, stretching the sexual tension out of my joints before I feel a strange warm feeling trickling down my thigh. Instantly realising what's happened, I grab another tissue to wipe Paul's juices off my thigh and make a point of thoroughly cleaning it before putting my leotard back on. I head to my bathroom to 'empty' myself when my plans are thwarted by a knock on my door.

"Jamie!" Charlotte yells impatiently. "Showtime!" This is not good news- I can hardly go downstairs and do a gymnastics routine in a skintight leotard with my boyfriend's payload seeping out of my backside. I quickly have the brainwave of plugging my backside with something like a tampon- except obviously, I don't own any tampons- what would I need them for, after all- and I can't ask Charlotte for one without raising too many questions, such as 'what would I need it for'. Dammit, I think to myself, why couldn't she have sent Krystie or Mary up to get me?

"Gimme a minute," I yell to my BFF, desperately trying to stall for time whilst I figure something out.

"What's keeping you?" Charlotte asks, turning my door handle.

"Nononononono," I panic, rushing to my door, clenching my buttocks in a sped-up mince to prevent me from 'dripping' over the carpet any more. "I'm, uh, I'm undressed. Just been to the toilet, um, didn't want to have to need to go mid-performance!"

"Well get your leotard back on and get downstairs!" Charlotte commands, apparently (hopefully) buying my excuse. I can't do the performance whilst clenching my buttocks and I certainly can't let a stain appear on my backside mid-routine. With no other options, I head into my bathroom, pick out my smallest butt plug and slide it into place. The flared end shouldn't show too much of an outline on the seat of my leotard unless you look really closely, and it's small enough that it won't interfere with the routine too much. And if it does, well, everyone's been drinking so hopefully they're not expecting much.

I squeeze my body back into my already-sweaty leotard- not the most pleasant experience of the night- and pull my skirt back on, hoping that any form of cover-up will help. I exit my room and present myself to my agitated BFF.

"Lose the skirt," Charlotte commands, herself already clad in just her leotard. Rolling my eyes, I strip my skirt straight back off and toss it back into my room. Nervously, I follow my identically-clothed BFF into the main room, where Charlotte, Krystie, Mary and myself prepare to pull of our routine. I'm lucky that Charlotte and Mary will be doing most of the 'heavy lifting'- the cartwheels and so forth- whilst I have a brief routine with a hula hoop and Krystie with a ribbon. Of course, part of my routine had to include turning round, bending over and shaking my booty for the crowd- I think I'm just going to conveniently 'forget' that part and dance around with the hoop freestyle for a bit. Charlotte will be pissed off, but it's not like anyone else will care too much, hopefully.

I maintain my confident pout as I step out into the room of eager onlookers and pose with my hoop whilst Charlotte and Mary do their thing. Soon enough, it's my turn, and I run through my moves almost balletically until it comes to my 'twerking' bit. Feeling Charlotte's stare burning into the back of my skull, I turn my back to the eager crowd, but instead of bending over, I follow-through on my plan of improvising and pull the hoop over my head, hula-hooping for a bit to the delight of the watching partygoers. Hopefully, if I draw attention to my hips, it'll be less obvious that there's something jammed in my backside. Charlotte's unhappy at first, but her glare softens into a disapproving smile as my hula-hooping wins fans. A mere 20 seconds later, I've finished my routine and handed over to Krystie.

Once she's done, all we need to do is finish- Mary jumps into Krystie & Charlotte's arms and is lifted high above their heads whilst I simultaneously drop into a straddle split in front of them. We pull this off flawlessly, even if it feels like I'm simultaneously forcing the plug out and driving it deeper into my backside. Once our applause subsides, I pull my legs round into a cross-legged position, helping to keep the plug in place, as Paul skips over and gives me a quick kiss.

"You were awesome," my boyfriend gushes as he wraps his hand around my waist. My smile at his touch quickly turns to confusion, however, as his hand slips down to my buttocks. I let out a small yelp as he pushes down on the flared end of the plug currently nestled in my backside.

"Thought so," Paul says cheekily, flashing me a quick wink. "Our secret, huh?"

"Yes," I say indignantly, "and it stays that way!"

Needless to say, I'm stuck in the party for the rest of the night, unable to get away even for a second. Fortunately I have Paul's hand covering my backside for the duration so there's not even a hint of the plug showing through my leotard- and whenever Paul excuses himself I immediately park myself on the nearest chair- but by the time the partygoers leave just after 1am I'm in near-agony from having the plug inserted for so long. When Charlotte and Keith decide to put off the tidying up to the following morning, it's all I can do not to hug the both of them. I make my excuses and immediately retreat to my bedroom where I almost cry with relief as I strip off my now sweat-drenched leotard and slide the plug out of my backside, sterilising it in a cup of boiling water before spending the next ten minutes sat on the toilet as I empty myself.

I'm asleep pretty much the second my head hits the pillow, but unsurprisingly, I'm awakened at 7:45 the following morning by Charlotte's now-traditional knock on my bedroom door.

"How on Earth can you be up and about at this time after last night?" I half-shout half-yawn at my BFF as she rouses me from my slumber.

"Shall I take that as a 'no', then?" Charlotte coolly asks.

"Let me put it to you this way- I'm already asleep again," I reply, driving my head into my pillow.

"We won't be back before you leave and will probably be gone before you get back," Keith says mercifully softly, "so have a good time at your parents'."

"Will do," I say, gathering my long blonde hair behind me and dozing off to sleep again. I'm only asleep for another hour before my alarm clock rouses me from my slumber. As you may have inferred from Keith, Sunday is the day I regularly go and visit my parents. Ever since we were reunited at Christmas we've set aside the day as our 'family time'. Dad even allowed Paul to attend for the first time a couple of months ago so he'll be picking me up and driving me there, which is fortunate as it'll give me the opportunity to talk to him about what happened last night.

In the meantime, I have a morning routine to follow. My shower and pills are followed by my make-up for the day- a very simple yet classic look, nothing too overt. I pull on a clean white bra & thong set and a pair of patterned brown tights, followed with a stretchy knee-length black skirt and a long-sleeved pink top. I opt for a pair of cute black ballet flats instead of heels today, figuring that as I won't see Charlotte at any point I can treat myself to a day out of them. I complete my look with two gold studs in each ear and the necklace my parents bought me for Christmas, before grabbing my bag and heading downstairs to where Paul is already waiting to pick me up.

"Hey," my sexy boyfriend greets me with a lingering kiss as I slide into the passenger seat of his Toyota. Naturally, before we set off, he 'accidentally' grabs my nylon-covered thigh instead of his handbrake, spending a few seconds playing with the patterns on my tights.

"Handbrake's closer to you," I tease as Paul tickles my legs through the tights. "What is it with guys and tights anyway? If I go out bare-legged or wearing nude hose I don't get half the stares if I'm wearing darker tights."

"I've told you before," Paul says, releasing his grip on my legs and driving out of our driveway, "it's the fact that they're in direct contact with your crotch. If I touch your legs, I'm touching something that's touching your lady area, so in a roundabout way, I'm touching your lady area."

"That's not the case if I'm wearing stockings, though," I say, pointing out the flaw in Paul's logic.

"Are you really arguing that stockings AREN'T sexy?" Paul retorts.

"Meh, I guess you have a point," I say with a smirk as we pull up to a red light and Paul grabs my knee again.

"Is that as good for you as it is for me?" Paul asks in a deep faux-American voice.

"Yes," I breathe orgasmically in an equally fake American accent, "yes!"

"Okay, that's enough remote third base for now," Paul says, gradually drifting his accent back to normal. Taking a deep breath, I broach the topic of our 'encounter' last night.

"On the topic of sex," I begin hesitantly, "what we-"

"Did last night?" Paul finishes my sentence. "You said at the time you wanted more. And I'm up for that if you are, but I'm sensing this is about more than just uncovered body parts, right?"

"Yeah," I say, trying to keep my confused emotions in check. "I mean it- I saw it as a new level for our relationship."

"I... kinda did too," Paul says. Naturally, there's one word in that sentence that stands out above of all the rest.

"'Kinda'?" I ask, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice.

"Okay, okay, it was a new level," Paul says, "but- and I know you want me to be honest- it wasn't as big a step-up as, say, our first holiday together."

"You do know you're the only guy I've ever had sex with, right?" I ask hesitantly, trying to get Paul to realise the importance of what I'm saying.

"I haven't forgotten," Paul responds quietly.

"...And I know I'm not the only girl you've ever had sex with," I add, sparing Paul the discomfort of having to skirt around the topic. "Or unprotected sex, for that matter."

"What happened in the past doesn't matter," Paul says firmly. "You're the only girl I want to be with. End of." I simply smile at the handsome, straightforward man.

"Thank you," I whisper quietly. "I just- I guess I just wanted you to know what a big deal it was for me." Paul simply smiles at me as we slowly make our way through London's streets to my parents' house.

"Jamie!" Mum greets me with a wide grin and a big hug as she answers the door. "I love your tights!"

"Thanks!" I reply with an equally wide grin as Dad gives me his customary uncomfortable virtually-no-contact hug as ushers myself and Paul into the living room, where we quickly park ourselves on the sofa.

"You see? I learned from last time," I joke at mum, waving my feet at her, "no stiletto marks in your carpets!"

"I was just joking," Mum says as she fetches cups of tea through from the kitchen, which Paul & I gratefully accept.

"Mr Bu-Travis," Paul says, jokingly 'forgetting' my birth surname in an always-successful attempt to irritate my father, "have you been following the games?"

"Some of it," dad answers, barely hiding his irritation at Paul's deliberate faux pas. "I watched that Farah kid's finals. Very impressive. ...And immediately she's reached for her phone," dad chastises me as I instinctively pull my iPhone out of my handbag.

"You're talking about sport," I remind the two most important men in my life. "What did you expect to happen?" Dad simply sighs and continues his conversation with Paul.

"You watching the closing ceremony tonight?" Dad asks whilst I busy myself with Facebook and Twitter.

"Of course," Paul answers with a grin. "Charlotte and her boyfriend have got tickets, naturally, so it'll just be me and Jamie on the sofa at home." I grin slightly as I sense dad bristle at the thought of me and Paul spending time alone with each other.

"You're welcome to watch it here," dad inevitably offers, causing my grin to widen further.

"Thanks," Paul says with a knowing grin of his own, "but we both have to be up early for work tomorrow so it'd kinda be more convenient to watch it at home."

"Very well," dad concedes frustratedly.

The rest of the dinner goes as it always does- talk about work and college, mum wanting to know when my next ballet recital will be (the photo I mentioned earlier, of me in my tutu, takes pride of place on my parents' mantlepiece as well), dad asking about university, the same conversations we've had every Sunday for months. Paul and I eventually depart, our bellies full, at 6pm. We arrive back home just in time for the closing ceremony and, as we said we would, spend the evening cuddled up together on the sofa watching it like an old married couple. Sadly, Paul has to go back to his own apartment just after the end so I'm left to climb into bed on my own, where I quickly fall into a deep sleep.

My alarm clock wakes me up at 7:45AM, as is the norm for a work day, and I quickly and quietly run through my morning routine of showering, taking my pills, applying my make-up and perfume and putting on my jewellery. For today's underwear I choose a sexy black lace bra, thong and suspender belt set, and I roll a pair of sheer black stockings up my legs, grinning through dark pink lips as I clip the suspenders through their lacy tops. After touching up my manicure with some clear nail polish, I pull on a plain black blouse, followed by a sexy tight grey skirt suit. The jacket is of course fitted, and the skirt is nice and clingy (if you look REALLY closely, you can just make out the outline of my suspenders) and comes to just above my knee, but has a high vent at the back that, if my stride is too wide, exposes a tiny amount of my stocking tops- hence why I love it so much! After pulling on a pair of ballet flats (for driving in) and grabbing a handbag and a pair of 5" stilettos to match my outfit, I head downstairs into my car and drive off toward another day at work.

As I drive into central London, I muse to myself how strange it is to be looking forward to actually going to work and not have any more exhausting parties ahead of me, when my eye is drawn to a very familiar red estate car head in the opposite direction to me. That looks a little like Ellen's car, I muse to myself as I glance over at the driver of the car. And that looks a little like Ellen, I confusedly wonder as I return my attention to the road. I've barely got a quarter of a mile from home, so it can't just be coincidence that our ballet tutor is heading towards our house- except neither Charlotte nor myself have a lesson today.

Still confused about Ellen's presence near our house, I park up in my regular parking space and change my flats for my heels, but before I head into the office I detour via the nearest convenience store and buy a box of large tampons. Even though I couldn't be mistaken for anything other than 100% female and even though I'm using a self-service checkout, I'm still self-conscious about placing the distinctive box in the shopping bag and taking it into the office with me. Fortunately, I'm able to stash it in my drawer before Joshua can see it.

Morning at work starts as it always has- paperwork, phone calls and filing, but just after 11 Joshua surprises me.

“Jamie!” Joshua calls happily from his office. “I'm heading out for a meeting! Tell anyone who calls I'll call them back tomorrow!” This confuses me greatly- there's nothing in his diary for today and usually when he goes out for an impromptu trip with his wife she calls beforehand.

“Where are you going?” I ask, standing and straightening my skirt. “There's nothing on your schedule for today...”

“Just lunch with a few friends,” Joshua explains as he grabs his suitcase and immediately leaves the office, leaving me standing there flummoxed by his behaviour. Once it becomes obvious he won't be returning any time soon, I return to work, but am interrupted a mere twenty minutes later by someone buzzing the doorbell.

“Who is it?” I ask, using my professional 'receptionist' voice.

“A tall, sexy photographer looking for work,” a familiar voice comes over the intercom. “And also, maybe, some sex.” I giggle at Paul's brazenness as I buzz him up to the office. Sure enough, once he's in the reception area he makes a beeline for my desk and plants a long, hot kiss on my lips.

“We're not hiring photographers at the moment,” I giggle as Paul grabs a hold of my backside and gives it a gentle, playful squeeze.

“Then how about the second thing?” Paul asks as he starts to lift the hem of my skirt.

“...Here in the office?” I ask hesitantly, holding off Paul's advance.

“I have it on good authority that we'll be alone for at least an hour,” my smug boyfriend announces, pulling out his phone and showing me a text message from a very familiar number.

Paul Gould! I'm going to be out of the office until 1300. Your girlfriend is lonely. Get here asap.

I roll my eyes at Joshua's writing and turn my attention back to the sexy young man in front of me.

“I have the best boss of all time,” I say warmly. “AND the best boyfriend.” Our kissing becomes heavier as Paul raises my skirt over my hips and- careful to leave my vagina panty in place- pulls my thong down to my ankles. I turn my back to Paul and bend over my desk as I hear the familiar, wonderful sound of his fly opening. This sound is quickly followed by another familiar sound- the tearing sound associated with a condom opening.

“No,” I say, turning around and grabbing Paul's fully-erect, throbbing penis, massaging it until it begins to pulse in my hand.

“Are you sure?” Paul asks, twitching slightly as he craves his release.

“Positive,” I say, turning back around and taking a deep breath as Paul penetrates me from behind, quickly riding us both to a hot, intense climax. Once Paul's withdrawn from my back passage, I reach into my drawer and pull out a brand-new tampon, waving it suggestively in Paul's face as he stares at me blankly.

“You do know what this is for, right?” I ask as I unwrap the thick tube.

“Yeah, but I've kinda never used one before,” Paul stutters as I hand him the small object.

“Nor have I,” I laugh as Paul stares at the tampon with confusion. “Just push it in, leave the string hanging out and remove the outer tube,” I instruct as Paul nervously eases the tampon into my anus.

“This... is weird,” Paul complains as he fully inserts the tampon and removes the applicator tube. I grimace slightly, but I have to concede his point.

“It is a little,” I agree as I pull my thong back up and lower my skirt, smirking a little at the sensation of the tampon plugging my still-tingling backside.

“Protected sex in future?” Paul asks, still holding the applicator and staring at it like it's an alien lifeform. I simply sigh at his unashamed maleness.

“Wrap it in tissue paper and throw it away,” I instruct Paul, who nods and heads into the nearby toilet. “And clean yourself up whilst you're in there. I'm deffo not touching it now that I know where it's been!”

“Righto,” Paul says, washing his hands (and other parts of his anatomy).

“And to answer your question, yes, protected sex in the future!” I say, guiding Paul into my chair and snuggling into his waiting lap.

After a light lunch- during which Paul leaves, much to our mutual dismay (he's got work elsewhere in the UK for the rest of the week)- Joshua returns and I get back to work as normal. After I get home at 5:30pm, I immediately head up to my room, strip off my suit and dispose of my tampon, which has served its purpose well. I make a point of popping a couple of additional tampons in my handbag, just in case I have another impromptu 'meeting' with Paul!

I change my sexy lace lingerie for a plain white bra & brief set and pull on a short, denim dungaree-style dress before heading downstairs to where Charlotte and Keith are already snuggled up on the sofa. I expect the usual awkward questions I've had every work day since I started my work experience, but this time I can counter with a few of my own. Immediately I notice that underneath Charlotte's loose dress is a black strap that looks far too wide to be one of her bras. Maybe a tank top? Or a leotard...

“How was work?” Charlotte teases as I snuggle up in my usual spot on my sofa and immediately turn my attention to my phone.

“Non-existent,” I retort. “Much like dinner seems to be.”

“We're ordering Thai,” Charlotte explains as she makes a point of adjusting her dress to hide her leotard strap.

“Sounds good,” I say with a smirk. “Get up to anything exciting today?”

“Nothing much,” Charlotte says defensively. “Had a few more TV offers, got to look through them.” This is certainly plausible- Charlotte's in increasing demand for appearances on TV panel and reality shows, and she's VERY picky about which offers she accepts.

“Cool,” I respond stoically. I could confront her about Ellen now, but it isn't the time- and besides, I have a much more devious, Charlotte-esque plan to catch her in the act tomorrow.

After eating dinner- which we spend, as you might imagine, talking and dodging each other's probing questions- I head to bed, but make a point of setting my alarm clock for 8:00. By my reckoning, Ellen would have arrived at the house just before 9 O'Clock, so I intend to be up and about at that exact time. Sure, Ellen may not even come tomorrow, but- and I know I'm being hypocritical here- I don't like being left in the dark.

Sure enough, I wake up at 8 on the dot, and run through my morning routine of showering, taking my pills and applying a light layer of make-up. I pull on a clean cotton bra & thong set and a loose ankle-length sundress before heading downstairs. I open and close the door, but I don't leave the house. Instead, I creep back upstairs and silently re-enter my room, waiting to spring my trap.

Sure enough, at precisely 8:55 Ellen's car pulls up in our driveway. Smirking at having my plan go so flawlessly, I head downstairs and spot Charlotte there, wearing both her ballet uniform and a look on her face that is equal parts shock and fury. Standing next to her is our ballet instructor, equally shocked by my presence.

“Ellen! Hi!” I say with mock surprise. “Did we arrange a lesson for today? I thought we were only doing Thursdays now...”

“Oh, um, uh, sure!” Charlotte stutters with her sweetest possible smile on her face. “I figured that seeing as you won't be seeing Paul until the weekend, I'd treat you to some extra ballet, given I know how much you missed it last week! I was just going to call you down, in fact!” You lying cow, I think to myself as I feign surprise at Charlotte's 'treat'.

“Oh my god, that's so thoughtful!” I exclaim with a wide smile on my face. “Just let me get changed and I'll be right there!” I head back up to my bedroom and quickly change into my ballet gear which, as always, consists of a black tank leotard and a pair of pink tights. Fortunately, given it's so hot outside, Ellen allows us to wear our tights outside our leotards, at least until it cools down again. After tying my hair up into a perfect ballerina's bun and attaching a pair of soft ballet slippers to my feet, I grab my trusty pointe shoes and head toward our private studio, but I pause before entering. This can't go on, I think to myself. And it can't. I'm lying to Charlotte about university, she's obviously lying to me about something... We're supposed to be BFFs. BFFs don't keep things from each other, especially not two friends as close as Charlotte and myself. I make a mental note to come clean to Charlotte- and Keith, Ellen, everyone- today about university. After my impromptu dance lesson, of course! I send a text message to Krystie and Mary, instructing them to come to the house after the lesson ends- they deserve to know too.

The lesson passes without incident- Charlotte and I dutifully dance our steps for 90 minutes until Ellen calls an end to the lesson. After persuading Ellen to stick around for a bit, I try to entertain Charlotte by walking back to my bedroom en pointe and doing a couple of pirouettes along the way, but I can tell she is severely annoyed with me. Once I get back to my bedroom, I call my annoyed BFF over.

"Charlotte," I say softly, trying to defuse her obvious irritation, "this can't go on. You're clearly hiding something from me, and-"

"What?" She asks angrily. "YOU'RE clearly hiding something from ME!"

"That's what I was about to say," I complain, trying to wrestle control of the conversation back from my BFF. "I wanted to keep it as a surprise, but you are my best friend. You're my sister. I don't want to keep it from you any longer."

"So then," Charlotte says, still angry but not nearly as close to boiling over as she was, "what is it that's so massive it has to be sprung on me like this?"

"Let me get changed first, please?" I ask, still feeling a little exposed with the waistband and gusset of my tights on show. Charlotte nods and I enter my room, stripping off my pointe shoes and tights and throwing my earlier dress back on over my leotard. I take a deep breath and head back downstairs, where everyone- Charlotte, Keith, Ellen, Krystie and Mary- are all sat on their sofas, waiting for me to make my big announcement.

"Everyone," I say nervously. "I have an announcement I want to make to you all. Recently, you may have noticed my behaviour being a little... odd. I'll disappear for hours at a time, not be as available for parties as I used to be... The reason for this is-" I take a deep breath- "I'm going to be starting an Open University course in September." There are light gasps from my friends, but surprisingly it's Keith who reacts the most.

"That's awesome!" Keith says with a wide grin on his face. "We'll be student buddies!"

"That's not a real thing," Charlotte chasitises before staring me straight in the face. "Why would you want to go to uni? You already have a perfectly good job."

"It's something I've always wanted to do," I tell Charlotte, who is clearly unconvinced. "You know I left school at 16, and not by choice. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, I love everything you've done for me, I really do, it's just- I want to do something that'll make my parents proud."

"Your parents looked plenty proud of you after your recital earlier in the year," Ellen unhelpfully contributes to almost-universal agreement.

"Guys," Keith interrupts, "the important thing here is that we support Jamie in what she wants to do. This is clearly important to her, and that should be all that matters."

"You're right," Krystie says, jumping to my defence (and doing a very good job of pretending that she doesn't already know). "But don't ever call us 'guys' again!" Keith holds his hands up, embarrassed at his faux pas.

"You will be an amazing student," Krystie says, coming over to me and giving me a big, reassuring hug. "What is it you'll be studying?"

"Business administration," I answer, mouthing a quick 'thank you' to Krystie. "I've been working for Joshua part-time for a few months now to get some experience in."

"I KNEW it!" Charlotte yells, getting off the sofa and approaching me. "THAT's where you've been going all those days!" I hold my hands up in mock-surrender.

"You got me," I say, prompting Charlotte to grin widely and join in the group hug, closely followed by everyone else in the room.

"Well, now that THAT's finally been cleared up," Charlotte says smugly, "I have a little announcement of my own. The reason I'm getting extra tuition from Ellen, is that in less than a month's time... I'm going to be one of the contestants on this year's Strictly Come Dancing!"

Immediately, the tone in the room changes, from 'cautious encouragement' of my university aspirations, to 'utter ecstasy' at Charlotte's upcoming TV role. All the usual questions fly her way- 'who will you be dancing with?', 'what will you be wearing in your first dance?', 'what dance are you looking forward to the most?' etc. etc. I join in the celebrations but inside, I feel crushed. Once again, I've done my best to make something more of myself, and once again, Charlotte's come in and snatched all the limelight away from me in the time it takes to say the word 'limelight'. I mean, obviously, I'm happy for her, but if you asked the others in the room what my big announcement was it's doubtful they'd even remember.

We party for the rest of the day, watching old Strictly videos, taking it in turns to dance old routines with each other, and taking it in turns to lavish attention on Charlotte. As I climb into bed alone at 11pm I check my phone to see if Paul's texted me or Facebooked me at any point this evening, and of course, he hasn't. Granted, he doesn't usually do so, but part of me hoped that he'd somehow know when his girlfriend was in emotional need. I snort when I check my calendar and am reminded of my upcoming shoot for a bridesmaids dress catalogue on Thursday. That just about sums up my role in life- always the bridesmaid, never the bride.